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Monthly Archives: March 2013

ROBBING A BANK: A win/win situation for me.

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The way I figure, if I robbed a bank one of two things would happen.  I’d either get away with it and have a bunch of money to start over or…I’d get locked up and finally have some peace and quiet (except for the occasional prison riot).

mon jail card

If I was locked up, I’d be away from the people in my life who cause me great stress like my husband in the dungeon and my two selfish and completely insane teenagers. I wouldn’t be tormented by my high-schoolish feelings of revenge against “the popular girls” (AKA football mom clique) and in a women’s prison I certainly wouldn’t be tempted by scoundrels. No scoundrels to coax me into doing things I’d later regret. Things that felt good at the time but made me feel worse about myself later.

My most recent encounter with the scoundrel Lambert is a perfect example. He sent me a text on Friday, not asking me but telling me to meet him at a diner a few towns over. He also said, again, to wear a skirt. I ignored this text for about three hours until I lost the fight with the very persuasive (and horny) bad Nicole, and agreed to meet him.

It was late at night and he was sitting at a booth all the way in a back corner, on the side facing the wall. As I approached the table, I thought about turning around but it was like a magnet was pulling me. A magnet aimed right at my cooch.

The second I sat, he gave me that look.  Oh those smoldering brown eyes. Any defense I had built up came tumbling down. I wasn’t seated for more than 10 seconds before the waitress came to the table. She looked only at Lambert.

“You ready to order hun?”

Instinctively I looked around, there was no menu on the table. Before I could point that out he was ordering.

“We’ll have two turkey clubs and two coffees”, he said, not consulting me, not even with his eyes.

“Sure thing”, she said with a sexy, almost knowing smile.

As she walked away I thought, This man is so pushy and rude, so why am I still sitting here?  Funny thing is, I probably would have ordered a turkey club anyway.  I don’t frequent diners often but when I do, that’s what I order.

“I like your skirt”, he said.

Finally, a compliment.  “Thanks.  Still a little cold for a short skirt though”, I said playfully.

He leaned over, looked under the table then glanced up at me.  “Take your panties off”.

I closed my legs and giggled nervously, “No way”.

He sat up and looked around the diner.  There weren’t many tables occupied and we were pretty far away from the other customers.  “No one will see you.  Take them off for me”.

I was frozen.  “Nicole”, he said in a coaxing way.  He smiled but it was like a, you’d better do what I say or you’re gonna be in big trouble kind of smile.

Oh fine.  I hiked up one side of my skirt, hooked my thumb in and slid them down.  Just as they got to my knees, the waitress walked up with our food.  I actually felt a breeze drift up my skirt.  My face flushed.

She put our plates down and looked at Lambert.  “Anything else”?

“No, we’re fine.  Thanks.”

He watched her ass as she walked away.   My panties are around my knees and this son of a bitch is looking a the waitress’ ass.  I really need to get out of here.

Annoyed, I reached down to pull them up.  “I’m not taking them off.  This is stupid”.

With that he lifted his foot, hooked them on my panties and pulled them all the way down, smiling the whole time.  I was stuck, his foot was holding them down and the only way I’d be able to move is if I gave in and slid them over my shoes.  No way.  We glared at each other a moment then he picked up his sandwich and took a bite.  I did the same.

I’m sure everything appeared normal as we ate, but under the table we were in a battle over my undies.  At first I was pissed but eventually it struck me funny and it turned into a bizarre game of tug of war until finally, I let him win.

He reached down, grabbed my panties and twirled them on his finger in victory.  Just then, the waitress stopped by.  I was mortified.  He had my panties in his hand.

“You guys need anything?”

“We’re fine, thanks”, he said.  Then like it was a napkin, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with my panties.  She smiled, again knowingly, then walked away.

I reached over and tried to grab them but he was too quick and shoved them into his jacket pocket.  Defeated, I took another bite of my club sandwich then suddenly, he disappeared under the table.  I  continued to eat, trying hard to appear normal while he forced my legs apart.  It was all I could do not to reenact the orgasm scene from “When Harry Met Sally.”

After about fifteen minutes he resurfaced.  We got our food to go and before we left I noticed he tipped the waitress twenty bucks.

Again, he said goodbye to me in the parking lot.  I felt “satisfied” this time, no Frosty required for the ride home, but I felt used.  How can someone make me feel so good and so bad at the same time?

Later, as I sat in bed alone, eating my club sandwich, I devised my plan to rob a bank.  Or maybe I’ll just go get a massage tomorrow.

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My life is officially a Jerry Springer episode

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What has happened to my life?  I just found out that my husband in the dungeon has been seeing my older sister.  Okay, she’s just my step sister and I can’t stand her anyway or else I’d be going bat shit crazy right now.  At this moment, I’m just regular crazy.  This goes beyond crossing the line.  This hurdles into Jerry Springer territory.  What the hell is the matter with him?  I’m disgusted with her although I can sort of understand a lonely, pathetic spinster lusting after a younger, off limits guy.  But him?  Ugh.  What am I supposed to do with this information, besides throw up?  I guess nothing.  I need to not think about it, like ever, ever again.

Police_Line_-_Do_Not_Cross

What makes certain people capable of “crossing the line” anyway?  Like mothers who go after their daughter’s boyfriends, teachers or coaches who seduce students, PRIESTS!  Some would say it probably stems from some sort of abuse in their past.  But I don’t buy that.  If you were abused, you’d know how horrible it made you feel so wouldn’t you make sure you NEVER did that to someone else? I have a history of abuse, nothing huge, just a piano teacher who had wandering hands.  But it made me more sensitive to the issue.  I don’t know.  People are fucked up.  I don’t usually let things get to me but this has really done a number on me.  I may need to go on a little vacation before I’m forced to take one…in a rubber room or behind bars.

The Sound of Music – XXX

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Saturday night I met Lambert at the 4th Avenue Cinema, a cute little theater that only plays old films.  As I walked toward it, freezing my ass off because he told me to wear a skirt, I see:  Now Showing – The Sound of Music.  Seriously?

As directed I purchased my ticket…I guess we’re going dutch…and entered the theater.  It was dark and Julie Andrews was already standing on a hill singing.  I heard  “pssssst”, turned and saw Lambert just where he said he’d be, seated in the back row.

I scooted through a row of empty seats, and noticed he had a full bucket of popcorn on his lap.  Oh my God.  He’s not gonna try the old hole in the bucket of popcorn trick, is he?  I plopped down next to him.

“You like The Sound of Music?”, he asked.  What? No, “Hi Nicole, you sure look nice in that skirt”? 

“I guess.  I haven’t seen it in forever though”.  I was too embarrassed to tell him I actually saw it a few years back with some girlfriends.  We went to a showing slash sing-a-long, and dressed in costume.  The menopausal von Trapp sisters.

“Want some popcorn”?  He asked.  My distrust was obviously transparent, because he lifted the bucket to show there would be nothing hiding at the bottom besides a few dead kernels.  I smiled and took a handful, looking at him as he watched the movie.

I sat there a while, periodically glancing at him, his eyes glued to the screen.  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m just wondering, is this your favorite movie or something”?

His eyes never left the screen.  “Shhhhh.  You shouldn’t talk during a movie Nicole, it’s rude”.  He continued to shovel popcorn in his mouth.

What the hell?  There’s no one else in the theater.  Who the fuck is going to see the late night showing of The Sound of Music on a Saturday night anyway?   This is too weird, he’s too weird.  I grabbed my purse and stood up.  “I think I’m gonna go.  Thanks for the movie”.

As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard.  “Nicole”, he put down the popcorn then slid his hand slowly up my inner thigh.  Up it went until….bingo!  He ran his finger over my panties.  Oh shit.

“Sit down”, he said as he moved the popcorn.

I sat, then he leaned over and kissed me.  His hand slid back up my inner thigh and this time…he went in.

making out at movies

We basically did everything but have sex back there, while the von Trapp children serenaded us, Nazis invaded and then finally everyone ended up on the hill.

When the movie ended, we giggled, fixed our clothes and kissed a little more.  I can honestly say that was the most fun I’ve ever had at the movies in my life.

Then he walked me to my car and said, “I’ll call you some time this week”.  Wait…that’s it?  Really?

He pecked me on the cheek, got in his car and drove off.  Just then, the theater lights went out.  I stood there in the dark, confused and unsatisfied.

So, on the way home I stopped at Wendy’s and got a large chocolate Frosty.  I held it between my legs while I drove and that helped a little.  But nothing, no song, no  radio station, would get those fucking von Trapp kids out of my head!  It was like my Disney “It’s  a Small World” nightmare all over again.

So long, farewell
Auf Weidersehen, goodbye

Call waiting…

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After years of marriage I forgot the first rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date!  The second rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date!

But I did.  And now I’m back in high school, waiting by the phone.  He said he’d call Thursday, it’s now Saturday.  Why would he call?  I gave him the prize and he didn’t even have to work for it.  Handed it right to him. Game over.

phone waiting

I need therapy.  I keep doing things that make me feel horrible about myself.  I’m spiraling downward and I can’t stop.  One of the things I feel horrible about is how I handled things with Ryan.  I was selfish and should have told him about his wife and Erich.  I came out looking really bad in that situation.  Then yesterday I felt even worse.  I was in my car reading while waiting for my son’s baseball practice to end (football is over, baseball now), Ryan’s son is also on the team.   I had seen him earlier but figured there was no way he’d talk to me so I just buried my nose in a book.  I was surprised when he tapped on my window.  I rolled it down, he asked how I was.

“I’m okay…you”?  I pasted on a phony smile.

“Alright, I guess.  How’s it going with you and Erich”?

I’m sure the “ugh” face I made was enough but I answered anyway.  “Not good.  Separate rooms.  Tension.  Just trying to hold it together for the kids.  How about you guys”?

“Trying to hold it together too.  Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened. You weren’t to blame.  It wasn’t your place to tell me. . .”

“No.  I should have told you.  I’m really sorry.  Really, really sorry.  I was being selfish”.  Whew…that felt good to get out!

“The whole thing was a mess.  I just wanted you to know I wasn’t mad at you or anything.  You were going through your own shit”.  He smiled, warm and genuine.  

He’s really nice.  God dammit…I’m really stupid. 

I guess he saw I was bummed, although I don’t think he realized why.  It wasn’t because of my marriage, it was him.  I really blew it.  He tried to lighten the mood.  “So, you look really pretty”. His tone was so soft and sweet, I wanted to cry.

Just as I was about to say something, my cell phone rang.  I glanced at the number…Lambert.  Guess the game is back on.  I tensed up, Ryan noticed.

“I’ll let you get that.  I just wanted to reach out, let you know how I felt.  Take care Nicole”.  Then he walked away.  Shit!

I answered the phone.  Too late.  Double shit!  Should I call him back?  Then, my text message chimed.

Meet me tonight, 10pm at Fourth Street Cinema.  I’ll be in theater 2, back row.  Wear a skirt.  Mr. Lambert

What the fuck?  Who the hell does he think he is?  He just assumes I have no plans and assumes I’ll follow his orders?  What an asshole.  No fricken way am I going.

I went back to reading my book.  I read the same paragraph ten times and still didn’t know what it was about.  Dammit!  I’m not going.  Of course the little devil on my shoulder was deciding which skirt I should wear.  She is very powerful.  She took control of my fingers and texted him back…

“See you at 10”.

Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition (Part II)

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After sticking my boob under the hand dryer for about 10 minutes, the wet spot on my shirt disappeared.  I checked myself in the mirror, gathered up strength and walked out of the ladies room.  When I came out, only a few people remained, Mr. Lambert was no where in sight.  I felt relieved but I’ll be honest, I was also disappointed.  There, I said it.  Did I really think I could fool myself?  How stupid is that?  Like it was a coincidence that I primped for a parent/teacher meeting and just so happened to stop by Victoria’s Secret earlier that day where somehow, a new, sexy bra and panties set ended up my bag? I’m not doing it for him, no way.  I always wear sexy undies to PTA meetings.  What an ass I am.

Anyway, I headed to my car, there were only a few left in the lot, one parked next to mine.  It was dark, I didn’t see anyone in the other car so I was startled when the passenger window rolled down as I unlocked my door.  I spun around and there he was.

“Did I scare you?  I thought you saw me. Sorry”.

“No, it’s just so dark.  I. . .” — I what Nicole?  Think of something.  I…I…I want to show you my new panties.  — “So, great meeting tonight”.  That’s what you decided to say?  Holy shit.

He laughed at me.  “I guess…if you’re starved for excitement”.  And then came the look.  “You hungry?”

“For excitement?”  I asked, totally clueless.

He laughed at me again.  “No, for food.  I haven’t eaten yet.”

Could I look like a bigger ass in front of this guy?  “Well, I ate before the meeting”.  The answer is, YES!  You can look like a bigger ass!

“Nicole”?

“Yes, Mister Lambert”.

“Get in the car”, he smiled.  I guess I wasn’t fooling him either.

“Okay”.

I got in the car.  I sat there, frozen.  I was so nervous I couldn’t even look at him.

“Nicole”?

I could hardly breathe.  I felt him staring at me.  “Yes?”

He leaned in closer.  I felt his hot breath in my ear, then he whispered. . .”I like it when you call me Mister Lambert”.

Oh….My….God.

Something inside me switched “on”.  That was fucking dirty…and I liked it.

He turned my face toward him and kissed me…hard.  No easing into it.  I felt like I was going to explode.  He unbuttoned my shirt.  I felt dizzy, the windows were steaming up.  I started getting a god damned hot flash. He kissed down my neck, over my breast then…he bit my nip.  I gasped.  Suddenly the background music seemed to turn into a porn soundtrack…chicka pow wow.

“Oh Mister Lambert”!

heart fog

 

Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition (Part I)

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I went to a follow-up parent’s meeting last night at the high school. Of course Mr. Lambert was there. I’ll spare you the boring details, I can’t remember many anyway, which is a problem since I was appointed head of some committee. Appointed by Mr. Lambert, without consulting me first which I thought was weird, but I couldn’t say no in front of fifty or so parents and faculty.

smoulder 2

The meeting itself was lots of talk, blah, blah, blah….I wasn’t paying attention because Mr. Lambert was staring at me. I tried to look away but his dark, sexy eyes pulled me in.

The way he was looking at me, I felt naked. Like he could see through my clothes. I became really self-conscious, feeling that somehow the others saw me naked too. Like one of those dreams where you’re naked at school or work. I kept fidgeting in my chair, I was sure everyone noticed. My face was flush, my ears were hot…I thought I might be having a panic attack then…meeting adjourned. Whew. (The photo isn’t him but that IS the look)

Then mingle, mingle, mingle. Refreshments. I went to the table where drinks were set up. Seconds later, Lambert was next to me. As he reached across to grab a soda, his arm lightly brushed against my chest. Suddenly my nipples sprung to life, I think I even gasped out loud.

“I hope you don’t mind that I appointed you to the (I still can’t remember) committee”, he said.

Did I say something here? I’m not sure. All I kept thinking was, touch my nipple again Lambert! And then…he did. He picked up a soda then as he brought his arm back over, the cold wet can brushed against my now protruding nipple. There I was, eyes wide open, nipples straight out and holding my breath. Yet he acted as if nothing happened. Was it an accident?

“If you can’t do it just let me know”, he said before he smiled and walked away.

I stood frozen a moment, looked down at my blouse and saw a wet spot around my nip. One of the female teachers walked up to the table. She smiled and swear her eyes went right to the wet spot and I could somehow hear her thoughts, “Oh my God! Those nipples are gonna cut right through her shirt”!

Okay, now I AM having a panic attack. I walked briskly to the ladies room, trying hard to avoid Lambert’s stare.
______________________________________________________________________

—Sorry, can’t finish right now. Have to drive the Mom cab. Tune in later for Part II of “Moms Gone Wild – Wet T-Shirt Edition”.

How do I spell relief? R-E-V-E-N-G-E

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I realize it’s not the most constructive way to heal or relieve my stress, not to mention completely immature…but I don’t care.  It makes me feel better and I’ve been feeling bad for so long, I think I deserve it, and so does he by the way.   He created this monster when he cheated on me.  I mean, I have children with this man, we built a life together.

Something has changed in me, I’m not going to physically hurt anyone but I’m done being treated like a doormat.  I’m sure my pre-menopausal state has something to do with my recent madness, or maybe this is my mid-life crisis, although I thought my recent “vagscaping” was my mid-life crisis…(Hellooooo Mr. Miyagi.  Wax on/wax off).  Whatever it is it’s making me feel better.

So to recap the last few months, I’ve successfully completed the old ‘powder the bitch’s locker’ trick and the ‘switch your scumbag husband’s Viagra for Estrogen’  maneuver.  My latest scheme, you’re gonna love this, I sent his girlfriend an anonymous letter.  Through some investigation, (okay…snooping.  whatever) I discovered the ho’s identity.  She’s a divorcee from that snotty football mom clique.  She knows he’s married and still living at home so I consider her fair game.  Anyway, she works at Town Hall so I sent her a letter from a ‘concerned co-worker’ that went as follows:

Dear Lisa,

I wanted to let you know that recently, many of us in the office have noticed an unpleasant odor coming from your private area.  I was too embarrassed to tell you in person but thought you should be aware since several of your co-workers, mostly the men, are now joking about it behind your back.  In fact I intercepted a picture someone had left on your desk of a rotten fish.  Maybe you should visit your OBGYN or douche, but please do something quick because it’s making us all very uncomfortable.  

Sincerely,

A Concerned Co-Worker

Sometimes, I scare myself.

stinky fish

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